Doctor Who, Redux
by The Eye of The Oncoming Storm
Summary: What if Rose wasn't the Doctor's companion? What if they never met? This is Doctor Who season one, redone. But be careful what you wish for. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
1. Chapter 1: Rose and The End of the World

_**Hi, all! This is a derivative of an earlier fanfiction of mine by the same name that wasn't really well written. So I am redoing it. This chapter is going to be a little bit shorter than most because a lot of Rose was about her and finding the Doctor. I've skipped a lot of things that were in that episode because they had to do with Rose.**_

* * *

**_Rose_**

* * *

_Vrowp, vrowp, vrowp, vrowp..._

The Doctor had landed in 21st century London. He'd been traveling on his own for a while now, and was missing being around humans, as thick as they were, and he found that a trip to pre-space travel London cured him of that. The console beeped. The Doctor looked at the screen. _Nestene._

* * *

It had taken all day to find where the signal was coming from. It was more fun when he had a companion that he could show off to, but after what happened to Ace, he didn't want to put anyone in any more danger.

He waited until closing time to blow up the relay. Then, he soniced the back door and tried to find a way up the the roof, where the relay was.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" A man called from behind him.

The Doctor turned around, dug the psychic paper from his pocket and showed it to the man. "I'm Dr. John Smith, health safety. And you are?"

"Wilson, Chief electrician."

"Wilson, can you tell me how to get to the roof?"

"The roof? But-"

"Quickly, please, I'm on kind of a tight schedule."

"The lift is the quickest way. Take it to the top and at the end of the corridor is a door and a short flight of stairs."

"Good man. Now, I want you to get out as fast as you can."

"I'm sorry, sir?"

"You heard me. Go on, go home. Go have your lovely beans on toast." The Doctor walked towards the lift.

"Strange man." Wilson muttered, and walked into his office.

The Doctor was about to step into the lift, when he heard a man giving a strangled scream. The Doctor rushed back to where he had talked to the man, but he was too late. The man's body lay on the ground, unmoving.

_Damn it._ He thought. _Stupid, _stupid._ They were already inside the building. _Out loud he said, "I'm sorry," he looked at the man's name tag. "...Wilson."

* * *

The Doctor set the charge and started running. He ran and had almost made it into the lift. It attacked him, but the doors of the lift shut on it's arm. He took the Auton by the arm and pulled till the arm came off. As soon as the lift hit the basement he kept running. He only just made it to the TARDIS before the building went up. He walked in the TARDIS and started to triangulate the Nestene Consciousness from the arm.

_Almost got it, _He thought. _Almost..._

**Tracking** **lost. **The screen read._  
_

"AAARRRRGGG!" He shouted. "The arm is too SIMPLE!" He went back to trying to filter the one signal from the Nestene. He looked for something, anything, but it would be impossible to find it until the signal went to full strength. He tried a different tact.

He sent out a signal of his own on all known Nestene frequencies.

"I seek audience with the Nestene Consciousness under peaceful contract, according to convention fifteen in the Shadow Proclamation." He said into the microphone. There was no answer.

"I know you can hear me, Nestene. Please reply." He waited. A screech came over the radio. "Thank you. Am I addressing the conscientiousness?"

Another screech.

"Thank you. If I might observe, you infiltrated this world using warped shunt technology. So, may I suggest with the greatest respect that you shunt off?"

Another screech, this time sounding plaintive.

"Oh, don't give me that. This is an invasion plain and simple. Don't talk about constitutional rights."

The conscientiousness screamed.

"I am talking!" The Doctor said. The conscience quieted down. "This planet is just starting. These stupid little people have only just learned how to walk but they're capable of so much more. I'm asking you, on their behalf, please, just go."

The conscience grumbled. The whole TARDIS shifted, and the Nestene Conscientiousness screamed. "I'm not attacking you! I am here to help. I am not your enemy." The Nestene gave a low growl.

"NO! No, honestly, no!" He said. "Yes, this is my ship."

The Nestene screamed again.

"That's not true!" The Doctor said. "I should know! I was there. I fought in the war! It wasn't my fault! I couldn't save your world, I couldn't save any of them!" The Doctor tried to move the TARDIS but the Nestene was stopping it somehow.

"AAAARRRHHGGGGG!" The Doctor screamed. He ran to the door, but when he open it, he was underground, surrounded by the mannequins. He slammed the door shut. Then paced, and thought.

_I can't fly the TARDIS away, and I can't leave to find the Conscientiousness. Can't stop it, unless..._

A blaring alarm on the console started going off.

"Unless they activate the signal!" He said. _Stupid, stupid idea, Nestene. Gotcha._ He looked at the location of the Conscience and frowned. "But that's not possible. That would mean that it's right out... side. Oh." He realized that they had taken him and the TARDIS to where they were hidden. He pulled the antiplastic from his jacket and looked at it. _I was hoping I wouldn't have to use this._ He thought soberly. He looked at the door. _I'm going to have to make this quick, or it'll be the_ last _thing I do._

He grasped the door handle, took a deep breath, and threw the doors open. The Autons crowded around him but he manged to push far enough through to toss the antiplastic at the Nestene Consciousness. The autons' hands fell open to reveal guns, and aimed at the Doctor. He shut his eyes tight and waited...

And waited. And waited. Finally, he cautiously opened his eyes. The autons were stumbling all over the place. "Yes!" He shouted. Then he realized. This place was going to go up in flames. He turned and ran back to the TARDIS, just in time. He heard the explosion through the door. He took a moment to catch his breath, then he stood up.

"Alright, sexy," he said to the TARDIS. "Where are we going next?"

* * *

**_The End of the World_**

_The Doctor would not have a companion at this point. Since he would not have a companion, he doesn't go to the 51st century to impress them. Cassandra would have manufactured a hostage situation and gotten away with millions._

* * *

_**R&R, Please! The Unquiet Dead is next!  
**_


	2. Chapter 2: The Unquiet Dead: Part One

**_The Unquiet Dead: Part 1  
_**

* * *

A man reached up to light a gas lamp. Just behind him is a casket, which a young man approaches. The undertaker blows out the match, and says, "Sneed and Company offer their sincerest condolence, sir, in this most trying hour."

The young man said, "Grandmama had a good innings, Mr. Sneed. She was so full of life. I can't believe she's gone."

Mr. Sneed shook his head. "Not gone, Mr. Redpath, sir, merely, sleeping."

Mr. Redpath looked appreciatively at the old man. His words gave him comfort. "May I have a moment?"

Sneed looked up. "Yes, of course. I shall be in the next room, should you require anything."

Sneed left, and Mr. Redpath leaned against the casket, looking down at his dead grandmother. He closed his eyes, and didn't see the blue _ around her face, neither did he hear whispers.

_Rift. _

The dead old woman reached up from the casket and started strangling the young man. Sneed thought he heard something in the next room and went in. "Oh, no." He said. He rushed over and tried to pull Mr. Redpath away, but he was already dead. Sneed tried to keep the old lady in the casket, even trying to replace the cover.

"Gwyneth!" He called. "Get down here now! We've got another one!" The old woman threw off the casket lid, knocking out mister Sneed. Then, she walked out into the snow and the night, giving an unearthly moan.

* * *

The TARDIS was shaking and moving all over the place. The Doctor was trying to land the TARDIS in Naples, 1960, but it was hard to pilot the TARDIS that was designed to be flown by six people and you have to manage by yourself. He only just made it to his destination.

_Vrowp, vrowp, vrowp, vrowp..._

* * *

Mister Sneed stood at the wash basin, tending to the bump on his head the the old lady gave him. "Gwyneth!" He shouted. "Where are you, girl? Gwyneth!"

A young woman came in through the back door.

"Where've you been?" He asked her. "I was shouting."

"I've been the stables, sir," She said. "Breaking the ice for old Samson."

"Well, get back in there and harness him up." Sneed said.

A shadow fell over Gwyneth's face. "Whatever for, sir?"

"The stiffs are getting lively again." He informed her. "Mister Redpath's grandmother- she's up and on her feet and out there somewhere in the streets. We've got to find her."

"Mister Sneed, for shame." She chastised. "How many more times? It's ungodly."

"Don't look at me like it's my fault." He said. Gwyneth looked chagrined. She'd spoken out of turn. "Now come on, hurry up. She was eighty-six. She can't have got too far."

"What about Mr. Redpath, sir?" She asked. "Did you deal with him?"

Mr. Sneed looked solemn. "No. _She_ did."

Gwyneth looked shocked. "That's awful, sir."

Mr Sneed nodded.

"I know it's not my place," she said. "And, please, forgive me for talking out of turn, sir. But this is getting beyond now.' Gwyneth heard whisperings, but Mr. Sneed dismissed them as the wind whistling around the eves of the house. "Something terrible is happening in this house, and we've got to get help." She pleaded.

"And we will!" Mr. Sneed assured her. "As soon as we get that dead old woman locked up and safe and sound. Now stop prevaricating, girl. Get the hearse ready. We're going body snatching."

* * *

_Vrowp, vrowp, vrowp, vrowp..._

The Doctor landed exactly where he wanted to go. _I deserve a medal. _He thought with a grinned. He was about to go out, but he hesitated. _I should probably change my jumper.  
_

After he'd done that, he walked out of the TARDIS, into the snowy Christmas night. And he stopped. He checked his watch. _My watch must be broken._ He thought. _This doesn't look like 1860. _He looked around and noticed a boy selling newspapers. He bought one and checked the date.

"Eighteen sixty-nine." He said. "Not so far off." But he frowned again as he say the name of the paper. _The Cardiff Gazette. Fantastic._

"Okay." He said. "I'm in Cardiff, it's 1869, and it's Christmas. There's _got_ to be something fun going on."

* * *

Gwyneth and Mr Sneed rode through the streets, scanning the crowd for the old woman. "Not a sign." Mr Sneed said nervously. "Where is she?"

"She's vanished into the ether, sir. Where can she be?" Gwyneth fretted.

Mr Sneed pulled on the reins, slowing the old horse to a stop. "You tell me, girl." Mr Sneed said.

Gwyneth swallowed nervously. "What do you mean?"

"Gwyneth, you know full well." He chastised.

She looked scared "No, sir, I can't."

"Use the sight." He said.

"It's not right, sir." Gwyneth said.

"Use the sight. Find the old lady, or you're dismissed."

Gwyneth looked up, eyes full of fear.

"Now, look inside, girl. Look deep. Where is she?" Mr Sneed asked.

Gwyneth closed her eyes and tried to concentrate. "She's lost, sir. She's so alone. Oh, my lord, so many strange things in her head."

"But where?" Mr Sneed prompted.

"She was excited." Gwyneth said. "About tonight. Before she passed on, she was going to see him."

"Who's 'him'?" Mr Sneed asked.

"A great man." Gwyneth said, eyes tearing up. "All the way from London. The great, great man."

* * *

A man knocked on the stage door. "Mr Dickens, Mr Dickens." He said. "Excuse me, sir, but this is your call."

The older man was sitting in his seat, eyes shut and rubbing his face.

The stage man frowned and approached the old man. "Are you quite well, sir?" He asked.

Finally, Mr Dickens looked up. "Splendid, splendid. Sorry."

"Time you were on, sir." The younger man said.

"Absolutely." Mr Dickens said. "I was just brooding." He smiled tiredly. "Christmastime. Not the best of times to be alone."

"Did no one travel with you, sir? No old lady wife waiting out front?" He nodded in the direction of the stage.

Mr Dickens shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

"You can have mine if you want." The stage man offered humorously.

"Oh, I wouldn't dare." Dickens said. "I've been, let's say clumsy, with family matters. Thank god I'm too old to cause any more trouble."

The man was shocked. "You speak as if it were all over, sir."

Mr Dickens shook his head. "Oh, no, it's never over." He said. He looked at the poster, advertising his appearance. "On and on I go, the same old show. I'm like a ghost, condemned to repeat myself, throughout all eternity." He stood up from his seat.

"It's never too late, sir." The younger man said. "You could always think up some new turns."

"No I can't." Mr Dickens said. "Even my imagination grows stale." He took a drink of water. "I'm an old man." He said. "Perhaps I've thought everything I'll ever think. Still," he said. "The lure of the limelight's as potent as a pipe, what, eh?

Mr Dickens threw off his dressing gown and put on his jacket. "On with the motley."


End file.
